


Red Ink

by MissNightTigress



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Confessions, M/M, dickdami, jaydami - Freeform, jaydick, jaydickdami
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissNightTigress/pseuds/MissNightTigress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason Todd is finally spilling his life story onto paper, but there's a dark reason for it.</p>
<p>Warnings: Mentions of drugs, rape, abuse, and implied character death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Ink

I could sit here and tell you that the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do is watch my mother die, but I’d be lying. The hardest thing you’ll ever do is die yourself.

Too much? Yeah. My filter kind of got shot when I was beaten to death with a crowbar and took a dip in an acid pool with “rejuvenating” qualities, but we’ll get to that in a moment.

I’m not a stranger to pain, sorrow, and bad luck. The worst luck I’ve had is the fact I was born. My parents met when my mother was in high school and my father was a drug dealer. They banged in a back alley in Gotham and nine months later they were blessed with my presence. You think everything was all sunshine and flowers and rainbows? Think again, cupcake.

My father’s habits grew increasingly worse as time dragged on. He would stumble in drunk every night and to this day I think there was more going on with him than just the drinking. He and my mother would get into fights, and I saw him strike her a couple times. She wasn’t a saint by any means, though. She was a user, no doubt getting shit Willis brought home and going to a dealer herself. There are nights I’d wake up and she’d be laying on the bathroom floor, and I’d sit there and brush her hair. I think she liked it. She never claimed otherwise, seeing as she was usually unconscious.

Willis went to jail before I hit double digits. Public drunkenness, assault and battery, I don’t exactly remember the charges, but they weren’t brought up out of the blue. Everything has a reason in life, there’s always a plan, and as it turns out, the Todd family were pawns in implementing a plan.

In the coming months, my mother began using more and more, and I got more aggressive. Guess I got it from Willis. I tried to protect her and the family to the best of my abilities. Family was all I had, all I wanted. I still remember writing a letter to the fat guy one year asking for a younger sibling and for my family to be happy. Like every other kid, I didn’t get my Christmas wish. Heh. Shocker.

One night, something just felt different. I went downstairs to check on my mother, and she was gone. I scoured every place in Gotham I could think of, until I finally found her in a back alley somewhere. She was perched against a concrete wall, her head down and pin-straight blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. I shook her to wake her up, and the longer it took her to respond, the more frantic I got. I checked her pulse after 10 minutes, only to find out there was none. I was suddenly an orphan, an orphan all alone in Gotham City. The probability rate of surviving was low enough for adults, and this just decreased my chances more.

I made my way through the streets, did shit I’m not proud of. I stole from people, robbed places, siphoned gas…you name it, I did it, at least once, except the offense worse than murder. I never raped anyone, nor did I ever stand by and let something like that happen. I did have some good qualities back then, believe it or not.

Anyway, I always did my best work in nooks and crannies, away from the eyes of the cops and other vigilantes in town. There were two that always came out at night, swinging from rooftop to rooftop with their eyes below, trying to keep Gotham clean. There used to be Batman and Robin. Now it was Batman and occasionally some fruitcake named Nightwing. I got lucky; they never caught me…until I let bad judgment cloud my good sense.

I was strolling through the streets like I did every night when I came across place known as Crime Alley. At first, I had to do a double take. Was that really the Batmobile abandoned in the middle of Gotham? It was! I got our my tire iron and began to make quick work of snatching those tires. With gadgets like those, the asshole had to be rich. He’d just buy new tires. Where was he when drug peddlers were harassing my mother, huh? Served him right to be stranded. He had a damn utility belt anyway. Lazy bastard.

My “brilliant plan” didn’t go off without a hitch like I planned. I was on the third tire when The Dark Knight came strolling up and yanked me into the Batmobile. Had I known the damn thing could fly I’d have taken out the flight controls first. He hauled me back to the Batcave, and after some time, I became the new Robin.

I know for a fact I was the worst birdie of the bunch. The first one was of course, the first one, the golden child, the best of the best. The third one was the smartest one. The girls were, of course, girls. That’s like automatic favoritism right there, even if they weren’t the “best.” The latest one is his kid, so that’s like a shoo-in even though there are days he’s a real demon. None of them died, though. None of them went through what I did, and I wouldn’t wish them to.

I guess that’s where I need to explain. I was benched by Batman after nearly killing a well-known drug peddler. I had my reasons, and Batman should’ve trusted that, but he had this OCD rule about not killing. So, like I said, I was benched. He went out on patrol and I sat home on the computers flipping through files and doing internal recon when I found her, my dead mother, alive in the Middle East. What the hell do you think I did? I left to find her, bring her back to Gotham. I didn’t realize it was a trap.

She looked beautiful as ever, even tied to a pole. I tried to free her when I took a crowbar to the skull…repeatedly. It was the same psychotic freak Batman had been after for years and years, Joker. He beat me and left me bleeding, but I was still going to save my mother. I was…until he detonated the bomb he planted inside with us. All I remember is seeing the ropes, my fingers fumbling to untie her, and then there’s nothing.

I don’t remember anything from my funeral, obviously, nor much after I realized I was buried “alive.” I remember clawing and kicking at the wood of the coffin and nearly suffocating from the dirt as I dug my way out. I remember breaking into a bakery at stealing a loaf of bread. Hey, I was hungry, okay? Talia al Ghul found me, and her and her father took me to their Lazarus Pit. I was brought back to full life, with a white streak in my jet black hair and my mind severely distorted…or set free. It’s been a few years and I still haven’t decided yet.

Yes, folks, somewhere out there is a pit that can heal the dead, probably heal wounds, and make you younger. Let’s keep in mind it has consequences too, eh?

I trained for a while with the League of Assassins the al Ghuls were associated with under the mentoring of Ducra, the elder of the group. I eventually went back to Gotham and began setting up a name for myself, under the guise of Red Hood. That’s when my mind tripped, and I went after the two people who I thought should’ve saved me, Batman and Nightwing.

I didn’t blame one as much as the other. Batman was my mentor, my real father-figure. Why didn’t he come rescue me? I was certain Joker told him where I was, like some kind of ransom thing, or maybe Alfred alerted him to my absence. He never came. He let Joker live while I died. That was the biggest kicker. That hurt more than him not saving me. He let the dickhead who murdered me get away with it by letting him live. He had antiquated morals, still does. It was all bullshit, but I’m learning to get over it little by little.

Nightwing was a different story. He was my big brother practically, and I could see how horrible he felt for not saving me either. I didn’t blame him for that. What I blamed him for was supporting Batman, taking his side. We’ve gotten into a skirmish or two, just like I have with all the other Robins, but over time, him and I have become closer than ever, just like I have with a certain former Robin current cat burglar.

I said at the beginning the hardest thing you’ll ever do is die yourself. I’m holding true by that. Because of my death, my own run-ins with Joker, everything is different. Everything he does either pisses me off or terrifies me. I didn’t even know I had fear left in me…until he took Nightwing and Aristocat.

That’s why I’m writing this, as a sort of admittance, a confessional, maybe even a testimony. I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m going after Joker tonight, and I’m getting my boys back. Batman, if you’re reading this, you can either help or stay the hell away. This shit ends tonight and you’re not going to stop me, especially if he harmed them in any way. Joker, if you got your grubby paws on this, you and I have a meeting with the business ends of a crowbar, my Colt, and my Beretta. See you soon, dickhead, and no funny business.

-Jason Todd-  
-Red Hood-


End file.
